Crushed (17 page)

I don’t care what it sounds like. Either she’s going to get pissed and kick me out, which wouldn’t be awful, or I’m going to get some action.

There’s a loud groan from the bathroom, and Lilah giggles. “Sounds like they’re having fun.”

She’s so short, she can sit upright under the bunk and still has room left over. I can’t see her face when she reaches for my jeans and slowly unzips them. My dick throbs. 

“This is nice,” she says, scraping her fingernails over the head. Shit, that feels good. So fucking good. I haven’t had any action since that kiss with Ellie, and even that wasn’t like I got laid or anything. That hasn’t happened since the summer.

My mind’s wandering. It shouldn’t be wandering.

Lilah drags her tongue over the surface, and instead of waiting for her, I grab her head with both my hands and do what I want. What I need to do to stay hard. To not think.

I watch her blond head bob up and down, and close my eyes. Focus on the feeling. From the way she works her tongue, it’s obvious she’s done this before. 

When we’re done, she drags the back of her hand across her lips and gives me a hopeful smile. “Did you like that?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

I’m empty. Absolutely empty inside. I zip my jeans, and before Lilah can beg me to stay, I get the hell out of there. 

I run through the rain, not caring if I get wet. Not caring if I drop dead from pneumonia. Just run. As fast as I can, away from that room. Away from Lilah. Away from myself.

What’s wrong with me? 

I should feel awesome, not miserable.

At the bottom of the upper campus stairs, I stop in the little glen and slump onto the solitary bench. The rain doesn’t fall as hard here under the canopy of trees.

Ellie was right. I only think with my dick.

Fuuuuck.
I pound my fists against the bench.

When I close my eyes, Ellie’s wicked smile dances through my mind. I try to focus on the way she eats three French fries at a time, all perfectly lined up. The way, when we’re together, I can breathe. The way she’s the only girl whom I’ve ever had even a shred of respect for. 

Screw the bet. Brady can have my car. He can claim my room. Whatever. 

I jump to my feet. Instead of climbing the stairs, I dodge raindrops across The Quad toward Ellie’s dorm. I’m going to tell her. That kiss, it meant so much more to me. It was everything.

It’s past curfew, but I don’t care. Besides, no one is going to come looking for kids out of their houses in rain like this. 

Ellie’s dorm is next to Brady and Reid’s. As I stumble through the downpour, I realize, I have no idea which room is hers – I’ve never been here before. 

My gut churns, and tears sting my eyes. 

What am I doing?

I just let some skank suck me off. How is Ellie supposed to believe I like her? 

As the rain pours down, soaking through my sweatshirt, my heart sits like lead in my chest.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop being such an ass?

23

I’m not in any hurry to get to class. I slept through breakfast and skipped showering. Dark circles line my eyes. Blond stubble dots my chin and upper lip. I don’t bother to tuck in my shirt or straighten my tie.

I look like shit. 

A few minutes after the bell, I drag myself into physics. 

“You’re late, Fletcher.”

“Sorry.” Standing takes all the effort in the world, so I collapse into my chair.

Sarah watches me, mouth wide open. “Are you okay? You look sick or something.”

With a heavy arm, I pull the worksheet she’s set on the table toward me. “I’m not sick.”

Sarah inspects our equipment. “Maybe Lilah Nittle gave you something.” 

“What?” The effort to spit out the word leaves me breathless.

“Weren’t you with her last night? She’s running all over campus, telling anyone who will listen that she hooked up with you.”

A sharp pain stabs at my temples. Maybe I am sick. My whole fucking body hurts. 

“Fletch, Sarah – is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Mr. Smits hops down the aisle and stops next to us. 

“I think Fletch is sick.”

I can’t lift my head off the table. The pain is agonizing. 

Mr. Smits taps my back. “Fletcher, do you think you can make it to the nurse station by yourself?”

I grunt. “Yes.” At least I think I do. 

A cool hand presses against my forehead. “He’s burning up. Sarah, Kyle, help him to the nurse’s office.”

Arms lift me from the seat, and with one arm around Sarah and the other over Kyle’s shoulder, I shuffle forward. Each step aches. My joints burn. Oh. God. I hurt.

There is no way I can make it to the nurse’s office. It’s on The Quad and so far away. So far.

“C’mon Fletch. Move your feet. I don’t want to have to drag you,” Sarah orders.

“We’re already dragging him,” Kyle points out.

Their voices sound millions of miles away. A chill runs through me and then suddenly, I’m hot. Too hot. So hot, sweat runs down my face, and I can’t stop shaking.

Someone lies me down on a cold, hard surface. There’s paper under me and disinfectant stings my nose. A bright light shines above me, and it makes my brain hurt, so I close my eyes. 

A hand on my cheek. So soft. The only light comes from the hallway beyond the cracked door.

Calista stands over me, watching me, stroking my hair. “How are you?”

Raw. Like someone scrubbed my insides with bleach. I reach for the cup of water on the side table, but Calista, seeing me stretch for it, grabs it first and curls my finger around it. I struggle to sit up. The aching’s gone, but I’m stiff.

The water soothes my scratchy throat, and I take two huge gulps before handing the cup back to Cal.

“Better,” I croak. “Not so achy.”

She drags a plastic chair to the side of the bed. “You’ve been sick for a few days. I was beyond worried. The nurse wouldn’t let any of us in to see you until today.”

“How many days?”

Calista crosses her legs, giving me a glimpse of her thigh. “Four. You had the flu and an awful fever. My mom told me if you didn’t start to improve today, your parents wanted you transferred to the hospital.”

I massage a sore spot on my neck. “It was that bad?”

“Yeah.”

She leans over me.. “Let me.”

Cal kneads my neck, her fingers sliding over my skin, and I groan. It hurts, but in a good way.

“I brought your books. I thought, maybe if you’re feeling better, you’d want to study. Finals are next week.”

I lower myself back onto the bed and roll onto my side. “I didn’t turn in my paper for Lit.”

Cal laughs. “Only you would worry about something like that.” She adjusts the blanket over me. “I think they’ll let you turn it in late.”

My fingers circle her wrist and I lower my eyes. “Thank you.”

“Shhh. You need to rest.” 

***

The nurse, satisfied with my progress, releases me the next morning, but only after I swear to drink plenty of fluids and continue to rest.

Rest, however, isn’t an option. I have finals. I have to study — especially after missing most of last week. In the pile of books Calista brought over yesterday, I found review guides from each of my teachers, which should help me catch up.

Since Harker has a reading week before finals, I have no classes. Just endless hours to sleep, eat, and make sure I know my classes inside and out. 

In the middle of reviewing the Calc guide, someone knocks softly on my door – like they’re worried I might be asleep.

“Come in,” I yell hoarsely. 

Ellie peaks around the corner. “Hey! How are you feeling?”

My stomach flutters as she takes up residence on my desk chair. For once, I’m the one on the bed. 

“Better.”

She tilts her head, like she doesn’t believe me. “You’re really pale.”

I close my eyes and re-open them lazily, positive this makes me look sicker. “I’m fine. Just a little weak. Food services is delivering my meals for the next two days because I’m not supposed to exert myself.”

She laughs. “Well, aren’t you spoiled?”

This isn’t how I wanted to see Ellie. Not curled up on my bed like an invalid. Plus, if my memory’s right, Sarah heard about Lilah. 

Which means Ellie knows too. 

An uncomfortable lump forms in my throat.

I swallow hard. “Guess so.” I push myself upright, an effort that leaves me gasping. 

“Are you okay?”

I wave her off. “I’m fine. What are you up to?”

“Study break.” She swings side-to-side in the chair. “Brady told me you were back. I thought I’d come by.” She sticks her hand in her pocket and pulls out a tiny, silver package. “Your Christmas present. It’s nothing fancy, but I thought you’d like it.”

Panic nibbles at me. Am I supposed to give her a present? Is that what friends do? But I never buy gifts for my friends. 

She shakes the present at me. “Don’t even try to tell me you’re too weak to open a present.”

“No.” I chuckle. “I hold out my hand, and she places it down softly without touching me. “But I didn’t get you anything.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t expect you to.” Ellie bounces on her toes. “C’mon. Open it.”

I tear at the red wrapping paper. Inside is a plain white box about two-inches long. I have no idea what it is.

“Fletch, the present is in the box, you know.”

“Right.” I flip off the top.

Inside, a giant red ‘s’ — Stanford’s logo — rests on a tuff of cotton. As I hold the keychain in my hand, the weight is suddenly more than I can bear, and my shoulders sag. Even though I’ve never told her, she knows it’s my dream school. 

“Do you like it?”

More than you know. “It’s perfect.”

24

A light drizzle pelts Cal and me as we sprint from one store to the next. Despite the weather, tourists pack Union Square, and it makes our progress slower. 

“Can we stop in Barney’s?” Cal asks. “I want to buy a new scarf.”

Mom insisted I drive Cal downtown. Just like last night, at the requisite viewing of the Nutcracker, the Desmaraises had to join us and Cal just had to sit next to me. Not that I mind too much. Things are finally as normal between us as they can. All it took was for me to end up in the infirmary.

I duck beneath the shallow awning of Macy’s. “Sure. I need to find a gift for my mom.”

Cal reaches for my hand, but I shove it in my pocket. She widens her eyes and sighs. “Stop being ridiculous. I don’t have cooties.”

The light turns green, and I step into the rain, leaving Cal behind. All week, she’s guided me through groups of adults at the endless parties we have to attend. Answering for us. Prompting me. Playing the role of girlfriend. 

“You’re not my girlfriend,” I remind her when she catches up to me. I don’t want her or her mind games. Or the hot-cold routine. I do, however, want to be friends.

We navigate around the “Caution Wet Floor” sign toward the elevators at the back of the store.

“Are you excited about Hawaii?” she asks brightly. It’s almost like we’re having two different conversations sometimes. I say one thing, and Cal steers it in a different direction. 

“It’s better than the rain.” My family never spends Christmas in San Francisco. It’s too damp and not festive enough in Mom’s opinion. Instead, after finishing our San Francisco social obligations, we spend the holiday in the winter wonderland known as Hawaii.

I punch the elevator button, and we descend. 

“Mom said I could go to Tahoe with Haley and Claire for New Year’s. Will you be back by then? Maybe you could come up too?”

I wait for her to exit. “I won’t be back until the Friday before school starts.”

Cal plucks a hat from a display and plops it on her head. “What do you think? Is it me?” She strikes a model’s pose.

Despite myself, I smile. She looks cute. “You should get it.”

She checks the tag and tosses it onto the nearby counter – not the display from where she got it. 

“Here,” she says, tapping the glass display case. “Help me pick out a scarf.”

I lean closer and peer at the brightly colored pieces of silk. They’re all the same to me. “That one’s nice.” I point to one that has peacock eyes on it.

“Ugh. No. It’s too busy.” The saleswoman waits patiently for Calista to make up her mind. “Those.” She points to a row of scarves. “I like those. Can you box them up separately?”

No please. Just orders.

“All of them?” the clerk asks.

Cal rolls her eyes. “Yes, all of them. They’re Christmas presents.”

The woman removes the row, takes Cal’s credit card, and disappears with the scarves.

When she’s gone, Cal puts the hat on again. “So, about tonight. What time are you coming by?”

As she adjusts the hat, I realize the past couple of months were just an interlude. A road bump. Nothing has changed between us. I’m Fletch, she’s Calista. And this is our life. Now and probably forever.

I don’t want this.

***

Since Leticia flew in a few days earlier to get the house ready, she meets us at the airport. Mom, Dad, and I pile into the car, and the driver navigates the winding road leading away from Kona airport and toward Honokaope Bay. The entire time, Dad works on his laptop, fingers tap, tap, tapping while Mom and Leticia go over guest lists, food orders, and more boring stuff. I crank up the volume on my iPod and watch the scenery pass. 

When we pull up to the house, Ellie and Sarah’s surprised faces when they first saw the Napa house flit through my mind. I can only imagine what they’d think of this: my parents’ private tropical, oceanfront retreat. With the exception of San Francisco, this house is smaller than our other homes even though it spreads out over three acres and has six bedrooms, two sleeping porches, a workout room, a media room, private office for Dad, a pool and spa, as well as a tennis court for Mom. Basically, it’s a resort owned by the Colson family.

As we turn onto our street, Leticia flips open her phone and whispers, “We’re pulling up now.”

Sure enough, the staff stands at attention, waiting for us. Dad jumps out of the car, gives a curt nod, and disappears into the house. Off to work, I guess.